Ten Minutes Till Midnight
by BlazeorFade
Summary: Dean is injured on CHristmas Eve. Holiday fluff, written for undermistletoe on LJ. Warning Wincest.


**Title: Ten Minutes Till Midnight**

**Author: BlazeorFade**

**Fandom: SPN**

**Rating: Pg-13**

**Word Count: 1,818**

**Summary: Dean is injured on Christmas Eve. Schmoop alert.**

**Warnings: Wincest.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Beta'd by: supernaturalgrl. Thank you for the super fast beta, honey.**

**AN: Written for undermistletoe on LJ.**

* * *

"Damnit Dean would you sit still?" Sam growled in agitation as Dean tried to get up from the bed. This was at least the fourth time he'd had to say something to him.

"It itches," Dean whined, trying to get at the stitches on his back and side. Sam took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose and got up from his chair.

"Quit. It." Sam enunciated each word with a sharp slap to Dean's hands. Dean glared at him and lay on his stomach, his arms pillowing his head.

Sam got up and returned to his chair, keeping watch over Dean. He tracked the small movements of his breathing, how his eyes would drift closed, flutter open and then shut again. It had only been a couple of hours since Sam dragged Dean back to their motel after a Black Dog tried to take a chunk out of him.

It wasn't often that Sam got to be the hero and save his brother from something. He wished he could say he enjoyed the reversal, but he hated it. He'd take a hit and Dean's razzing about Sam being a damsel in distress over seeing Dean laid low any day .

"You're thinking too much," Dean complained groggily. He was still in and out of a painkiller haze. "I'm fine Sammy."

"Almost weren't." The words slipped out before Sam could stop them. He looked down, bracing himself for the mocking that was sure to come now.

Instead Dean just lifted his head up and looked at Sam with half lidded eyes and smiled a loopy grin, "Naw, you'd 've saved me. Face it, Sammy-boy, you're stuck with me."

"Damn straight." Sam replied. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to Dean, tracing his fingers lightly over the lengthy lines of stitches he'd put there. The wounds weren't deep but they made up for it by being long, and he was sure they'd leave a jagged reminder of this latest near-miss.

"Hey, stop." Dean turned his head to look at his brother, his side twitched when Sam grazed the line there.

"Ticklish?" Sam asked, a teasing smiled tugging at his lips.

"No!" Dean said indignantly. Sam snorted, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"You should go back to sleep." Sam said growing serious.

"What time is it?" Dean asked sidestepping Sam's words.

"Go to sleep, you need to rest, Dean," Sam ordered.

"Did I stutter?" Dean asked narrowing his over bright eyes at Sam. Sam blew out a breath, any sympathy he'd been feeling for Dean gone with his patience.

"Its ten till midnight. Why?" Sam said looking at his watch. Midnight was early by Winchester standards, their version of seven am, the start of the workday. This hunt just happened to have ended sooner than expected.

Dean smiled widely and tried to get up again, barely stifling his grunts and groans of discomfort.

"Dean you have to rest," Sam said putting a firm hand on Dean's shoulder to force him back down on the bed.

"I'm fine Sam, I just hafta-" Dean broke off, scowling over his shoulder at Sam. He didn't hurt that bad, he thought, Sam was just being a mother hen.

"What? Tell me what you wanted and I'll get it for you," Sam offered, turning his forceful touch into a comforting caress that Dean grudgingly leaned into.

Dean wasn't looking at Sam as he nodded, his frown deepening. He'd wanted this to be romantic and nice; he should've known it wouldn't go down that way. Dean Winchester didn't do sentimental and romantic well.

"In my bag, at the bottom." Dean said jerking his chin towards his pack in the corner by the door.

Sam got up and walked over to the leather bag. He sifted through it wondering what he was looking for and why Dean couldn't have been a little more specific.

"Dean what the hell am I looking for here?" Sam asked looking up at Dean, who was staring at him through his eye lashes.

"A package." Dean answered vaguely. Sam frowned and turned his attention back to the bag.

Finally, buried beneath dirty clothes and Dean's homemade EMF, Sam's hand found it. He pulled out a plainly wrapped green package.

A present. Sam cocked his head to the side and looked back at Dean, who had a small smile on his face. Dean shrugged and gestured for Sam to open it.

Sam bit his lip, letting Dean's bag drop and sat down at the table, eyeing the gift for a second before glancing at Dean again.

"C'mon Sam. Open that thing already," Dean said pursing his lips together in a way that Sam would never tell him was so completely girly.

"Alright, I just….." Sam trailed off. In all the excitement Sam forgot what day it was exactly. He unwrapped the present carefully, taking the tape apart slowly so it wouldn't rip the paper much. He ignored the muttered "Such a girl…" he heard come from Dean.

Inside was a paperback copy of The Brothers Karamazov, one of Sam's favorite books.

"Dean." He ran his fingers over the cover as lovingly as he had Dean's stitches.

"Yeah, I felt kinda bad after we had to use your old copy to burn that corpse awhile back so…" Dean shrugged. Sam smiled flipping the pages, this was a much nicer copy than the battered edition he'd gotten from a used bookstore when he was at Stanford.

"If you don't like-"

"I love it," Sam interrupted, clutching the book protectively to his chest. Dean smiled and his face lit up, prompting Sam to drop to his knees in front of him, pressing his lips softly against Dean's.

"I guess since we're doing this early I should give you your present." Sam said resting his forehead against Dean's.

One more kiss then Sam jumped to his feet, his book tucked under his arm, grabbing the car keys from his pocket. He spun them round his finger sending a sly glance in Dean's direction. He knew his brother had been snooping around Sam's stuff to see if he'd gotten him something, that's why he'd hidden it in Dean's baby.

Sam unlocked the car door and climbed into the backseat, folding his long legs under him as best he could so he had room to shove his hand down the back of the seats. The nostalgia of using his childhood hiding place again brought a smile to Sam's face. It wasn't hard to find the small, t-shirt wrapped bundle. He pulled it out carefully, holding it in one hand and Dean's gift to him in the other. Christmas wasn't a thing they went through with any bells and whistles. Hell, the year before they'd both just forgotten. Sam was still too wrapped in grief and guilt and Dean was throwing himself hard into the search for their father.

Not that this year was much better, Sam thought, a hint of melancholy sneaking up on him. The only differences between this year and the last was that Dad was dead and Sam was functioning, just barely, but enough.

"Sammy? What's takin ya?" Dean asked, sounding equal parts excited and anxious.

"Coming," Sam called back. No, something else was different, Dean's voice reminded him, and that something was them. They were an _US _now. A single unit that fit together with all their breaks and madness and love.

Dean hummed under his breath, something Sam couldn't discern, running his finger in figure eights along the bedspread when Sam walked through the door. Sam bit his lower lip, shifting from one foot to the other as he handed his cloth covered package over to Dean.

"You're one hell of a wrapper Sam," Dean said lightly turning the thing over in his hands. He looked up into Sam's eyes, smiling a teasing smile.

"Shut up, its wrapped. The shirt was so the paper wouldn't mess up," Sam said, turning shades of red.

In contrast to Sam's careful, patient unfolding when he was given a present, Dean unwound the cotton shield revealing a small wrapped box that fit into the palm of Sam's giant paw, and tore the blue wrapping paper to bits without thinking twice. When he got to the square box, he had a scrap o f gift wrap in his hair and Sam was laughing softly. Dean's excitement was catching, the reminder Sam needed that Dean could still retain some of the kid in him after all they'd experienced.

"An engagement ring, Sam?" Dean asked shaking the box close to his ear. Sam bit back a retort, sitting back in his chair to watch for Dean's reaction. Damn, he hoped his brother liked it.

Dean opened the lid of the box, peering inside it to see a shiny chrome and black Zippo lighter with the Chinese character for 'Honor' and the word underneath. He flipped it out, running his thumb over the cool metal, then the slightly warmer lettering.

"Do you like it? I saw it and it made me think of you so…" Sam cleared his throat. He gave Dean that expectant puppy dog look, so eager and vulnerable, waiting for approval and promising so much with that one expression. Only Sam could pull that shit over on Dean.

"Its perfect Sammy," Dean said. He turned over onto his good side and held out an arm of invitation for Sam.

"You really like it?" Sam asked, pulling off his hoodie before settling into Dean's embrace. It took some maneuvering but the two ended up with Dean's lighter holding hand around Sam's shoulders, resting on his chest with an anchoring warmth and Sam's legs twined around one of Dean's, as much skin as they could touching. Sam kept running his hand over the cover to his book, giving a secret smile each time.

"I love it," Dean said with genuine affection. He turned it over in his hand, flipping the lid open and closed. "Although, " he paused for effect, "I can't imagine 'Honor' being the word for me, dude." He'd meant it to come off light but it didn't carry.

"Yes it does," Sam insisted with an emphatic nod that made a lock of his hair fall into those earnest hazel eyes of his.

"Thank you, Sam." Dean said, brushing his lips over Sam's.

"You haven't seen the best part yet," Sam said smiling proudly. He took the lighter from Dean and turned it over, revealing an inscription on the bottom.

An Old English D etched into the metal with an S coiled around it and a bold **W **beneath.

"It's perfect," Dean said, giving Sam a Chaste kiss. "What time is it now, Sammy?"

"Ten after Midnight," Sam smiled. "Merry Christmas, Dean."

"Merry Christmas, Sam," Dean swallowed, wrapping his hand around Sam's hand, which still held the token of love.

**-Fin**


End file.
